Chapter Two

NOELY

“Are you signed in?” Lynn, the publicist for Going in Blind asks me.

“I am.” I’m sitting on my couch in a pair of rainbow shorts and a black tank top, a pint of cookie dough next to me, and two phones in hand. One is connected to Lynn and the other is displaying the Going in Blind dating app.

“Perfect. As you can see, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Your profile is already set up with your avatar and the information you gave us. The video you made is just for us, so other daters won’t be able to see it. We want all daters to really go into this program just like any other blind date, not knowing much about looks but only information a friend might tell you about them.”

“Makes sense. What about my name; did my handle choice pass?”

“Yes, ma’am. You can see it at the top there.”

In the top right corner, there is a picture of a Christmas tree—my avatar—and next to it, written in pink is my handle: ShopGirl.

I smile to myself.

I know what you’re thinking. What the hell does ShopGirl have to do with me, a co-host of a morning show? Let me ask you a question. Have you ever seen You’ve Got Mail, the best romantic comedy ever produced? If you haven’t, stop what you’re doing and go watch it now.

I’m not kidding, go watch it.

If you are well versed in the world of romcom, then you know ShopGirl was Meg Ryan’s handle in the movie. I figure if Kathleen Kelly, the owner of The Shop Around the Corner, could find love through an unconventional way, so can I. Let’s just call it a little hint of luck.

And the Christmas tree avatar, well that’s just a play on my name . . . you know, Noely, Noel, Christmas, Christmas tree. Clever, so freaking clever.

“That excites me. I’m glad it was available.”

“Yes, since we’re just getting started, we still have a lot of usernames available. So if you click on your profile avatar at the top, you will see all the information you gave us about yourself is listed.”

Blonde hair, hazel eyes, five five, and an extrovert. Loves a good corn on the cob (the food), enjoys hockey and baseball, is infatuated with Tom Hanks, and will tell you if there is food in your teeth—it’s the neighborly thing to do, after all.

I’m happy with it. We really didn’t get to say much, only the very basics and had about fifty characters to use for a brief description about ourselves. I think I did a pretty good job.

“It looks good. What’s next?” I take a scoop out of my raw cookie dough pint and plop it in my mouth. I went to the spin studio today, cookie dough is my reward.

“Since we have everything set to go on your end, we’re going to run your profile through our system and set you up with some dates. The system might give you multiple dates, or one at first, depends on the matches, but the first one will be the person who best matches your personality and what you’re looking for in a man. That’s what we’ve witnessed within our beta testing so far.”

“So you’re saying my first match should be the man of my dreams?”

Lynn chuckles. “Well, not necessarily, but he should be pretty darn close. Once you both match up, there will be a time and date offered on the app to have dinner at the restaurant. If you accept the date, you must attend. If you’re a no-show, you will be kicked out of the program. We don’t want people to get discouraged from dates not showing up. This is so daters can truly find their match.”

“That’s so great to hear. Will there be a way to talk to the person before the date? I see there is a messenger app on here.”

“There is. You can talk to the person before you meet, but we encourage our daters to wait until the actual date for a more authentic experience.”

Authentic means awkward, but hey, I want to do this the real way, so I’ll stay away from messaging my dates.

“Awesome. Anything else I need to know?”

Lynn pauses, and I’m sure she’s looking at some sort of checklist. I would too if I was doing her job. “Yes, at the end of the date, the app will ask you if you want to meet with your date again. If you say yes, the app will suggest three second-date options around the city based on your compatibility and interests.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yeah. We’re committed to making this process easy on our daters so we offer ideas for your second date. But after the second date, you’re on your own.”

“That’s fair.” I chuckle. Feeling a little invigorated, slightly nauseous, and a tad excited, I say, “I can’t wait to get started. Do you think there’ll be a match for me soon?”

“We work pretty fast on our end. Within twenty-four hours you should have a notification on the app.”

“Wow. You do work fast. I can’t wait.”

“We’re glad we can accommodate you, Miss Clark.” Lynn pauses, and I shove more cookie dough in my mouth. Two more bites and then I’m going to put it away—can’t be having cookie dough stomach rolls on my date. “I did have a chance to talk to your boss, Mr. Stein. He wanted to put together a piece on the restaurant and use you as a test subject.” Of course he did. I hold back the huff that wants to escape. “I informed him that filming is not permitted in our restaurant, but if he wants to do a piece on our dating program we would be more than happy to sit with him and give him a one-on-one interview.”

Well, thank you, Lynn.

Smiling inwardly, I say, “You know, that’s a relief, Lynn. I wanted to keep this side of my life private, so I’m happy I won’t have to share my dating experience with the world, at least firsthand. I’m sure I’ll be asked about it, but at least I’ll have some privacy from how awkward I’m sure I’ll be.”

“Glad to help. But I do want to ask you a question. You’re in this for the right reasons, right? I would hate for you to be matched with someone when this is just publicity for you.”

I sit up and loathe that I have to prove my sincerity. Thanks, Kevin. Turd. “I’m absolutely in this for the right reasons. I honestly didn’t want anyone at my job to know because this is personal. But also because I knew they’d want to use it to the show’s advantage. I’m truly sorry Kevin got hold of it. I hope he didn’t upset you.”

“Not at all. We set the ground rules, and he can take us up on the interview if he wants. His choice.”

“He will. I have no doubt in my mind.” I let out a long sigh and say, “I have an early morning so I need to go. Thank you for taking the time to walk me through the app. I’m easily confused, so I wanted to make sure I wasn’t setting up a date with a trout set to be one of your main courses.”

Lynn chuckles. “I can guarantee that will never happen. Have a good night, Miss Clark, and if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I say my thank yous and good nights and hang up. Tossing my work phone to the side, I bring my personal phone close to me and lean back on the couch, getting comfortable, willing the phone to notify me with a match.

I know it will take a little bit of time, but I’m all about instant gratification and therefore have zero patience. Continuing to refresh my dashboard, I talk to my phone. “Who’s going to be my ultimate match? Are you going to be a laid-back surfer boy who’s lived his whole life in Malibu? Are you going to be a teacher with a thick stapler in your pants?” I giggle to myself. “Maybe a doctor who loves doing pelvic exams. Wouldn’t mind one of those.”

After refreshing my dashboard about twenty times, I black out my phone and toss it to the side with the other one. Closing my eyes, I rest my head on the couch cushion and think about the possibility of actually meeting someone. I don’t know when it happened exactly, but coming home one night recently, as I entered my apartment, it struck me how quiet it was. I am surrounded by noise at work, so you’d think I’d want quiet when I get home. But it wasn’t that sort of quiet. It was the quiet that confirms no one awaits you as you walk through the door. The quiet that confirms you’ll be cooking and eating dinner on your own again tonight. The quiet that bounces off the walls when you watch TV and laugh at the stupid humor. The quiet in bed when no one farts next to you. Oh, hang on. That one I want to keep. The quiet I don’t want or like anymore is the one that is my everyday quiet. Because it’s become . . . lonely.

I haven’t had the best of luck in the dating department. Clearly my radar for good men is terrible. I attract the worst kind of men from the clingers, to the stealers—yes, I’ve had men steal from me before—to the perpetual criers. And now that I’m “famous” in Malibu for my morning talk show, the pool of good men has really narrowed.

All I want is someone amusing who can laugh with me, a man who can also connect with me on an intellectual level. If he happens to be handsome, with big hands, impeccable style, and a deep voice that can rock my socks off in bed, then hey, I’ll take it.